


Hell Has A New King

by consulting_vulcan_jedi_detective



Series: Hell Has A New King [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, Hell, Magic, Not quite Faustian bargain, POV Arthur, demon!arthur, sorcerer!Ivan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consulting_vulcan_jedi_detective/pseuds/consulting_vulcan_jedi_detective
Summary: Arthur is after his friend Ivan's soul, and Ivan secretly is after something far more ambitious.Stand-alone, or set before "The Bludgeonings of Chance".





	

“Give me a hand with this,” Ivan says, and Arthur sighs.

He walks over to the table, where the human is vivisecting a pigeon. Feathers are thrashing everywhere, and Arthur winces at the mess. He reminds himself that he has a good reason for sticking around.

“What am I supposed to be doing?” he asks reluctantly.

Ivan doesn’t look up. “Just keep his beak closed and away from my hands.” The operation he’s performing doesn’t seem to have any purpose, but torture for torture’s sake isn’t really Ivan’s style, so Arthur really has no idea what he’s up to.

Finally, the human straightens. “That should be enough,” he says. “Catch his soul when it leaves,” he instructs.

Bemused, Arthur does. He turns to Ivan, who is cleaning up his work station. “Now what?”

Ivan grins. “It’s yours.”

“It’s _what?_ I’m after your soul, not a pigeon’s,” Arthur says indignantly. He starts to detach the soul from his fingers, but Ivan bats his hand away.

“You asked for the soul of a six-month betrayed virgin dove fed exclusively on human flesh,” Ivan explains, putting organs back inside the pigeon’s carcass and wrapping the whole thing in a translucent sheet. “Hence, Mitya. Rock dove. Easier and cheaper to obtain than those white fluttery things.”

Arthur doesn’t follow. “Mitya?”

“The dove,” Ivan says, smiling faintly. “The pigeon.”

Arthur stares at him. “You named the pigeon.”

Ivan shrugs. “He was living in my house for six months. We were building a relationship,” he says with a grin, and Arthur isn’t sure if he’s joking or not. “I had to call him something.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to name animals that you’re planning to kill,” Arthur asks, pulling a bag from the air and scraping the soul into it.

“I wasn’t sure how much of a betrayal you wanted,” Ivan explains. “I figured I’d go from loving care to heartless torture. Hopefully that’s what you were looking for.”

Arthur sometimes wishes that Lucifer were still around, just so that he could show off this find to his King. It’s so rare that anyone finds souls like this Ivan, so willing to do terrible things and yet still so full of laughter and delight at the world. He stores the pigeon soul away carefully. “It’s great,” he admits. “It’s going to be a present for a friend.”

“Good,” Ivan says. “I’m just about finished here,” he says, and it’s true, the steel tabletop is clean and shiny. He grabs a towel and goes to the window, drying his hands.

Arthur joins him in looking down at the street. London has been one of his favorite places since not long after it sprang up. In some parts, even humans can smell the sin on the air. “Can we talk about _your_ soul now?” he asks.

“Sure,” Ivan says easily, but he doesn’t look like he means it.

Sorcerers are some of the best souls, but the downside to working at them is that they tend to understand the consequences of infernal bargains better than ordinary, unsuspecting humans. Arthur’s been working at this particular sorcerer for eight months now and he doesn’t even have a single clause down on paper yet. Unfortunately, Ivan is actually an assignment, not just an independent study, so Arthur can’t just quit and move on to an easier project. Not that he would quit with such a delicious soul just beyond his fingertips.

Ivan is gazing at the people below. “This,” he says, “is how most people see animals: from a distance and a lofty height. But it’s worse to see them as equals, because once you see that even pigeons have souls, once you equate those like you to those not like you, it becomes you against the world,” he says, uncharacteristically serious. Then he looks at Arthur. “But _you_ can step back farther than that. Demon souls and angel souls aren’t like human souls or animal souls. You don’t go anywhere when you’re dead. And that makes you either less or more than us,” he says, gesturing around him.

Arthur _so_ wants that soul on his resumé.

~

“Explain it to me again,” Ivan says, drawing a circle on the floor in chalk. He adds some squiggles, eyes them critically, and wipes them out. He draws a second circle around the first, and then puts segments at irregular intervals connecting the two rings.

Arthur steps around, careful to not smudge any of the lines. “Some souls go straight to the Pit. We just toss them all together and keep the fires going. No torture, just endless flaming.”

“Most humans would consider endless flaming torture,” Ivan points out. “I know I would.”

Arthur waves that off. “Then there are the ones that have cut deals with us. What happens to them depends on the bargain and sometimes the demon. Some people I know like to make deals with souls they particularly want to torture.”

“Mm-hm,” Ivan hums. He lights some candles.

“None of that for you, though. Your contract will be between you and Hell. I’m just the negotiator,” Arthur says, nostalgic again for good old days, when he would have gotten a major promotion for managing a deal like this. He reminds himself not to count his chickens before they hatch.

Ivan nods. He’s heard this before.

“You’ll be a conduit, when you die. We’ve needed one every few decades since—never mind,” he says, flushing. “Your soul will amplify Hell’s power on Earth.”

“I know this all already,” Ivan says, sounding irritated. “ _Why_ do you need an amplifier? Are quotas not being met? Angels not scared enough, or something?”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, just glances at the clock meaningfully.

Ivan catches him, though. “Or is that actually what’s happening? It’s about keeping up appearances, isn’t it? You said, ever since something, you’ve needed souls like mine. Since what?”

Arthur _hates_ talking about this. Hell’s a mess these days. It’s awful.

“Oh my God,” Ivan blasphemes, grinning, “Lucifer’s actually dead, isn’t he?”

Arthur covers his face. “How do _you_ know about that?”

“I’m a sorcerer. I hear things,” Ivan says. “I didn’t know if it was true. And I wasn’t sure if it was something I should bring up with you.”

“We can talk about this more later,” Arthur grinds out. “Don’t we have business?”

Ivan nods, wipes the grin off of his face, and goes upstairs to get the door.

When he comes back down the basement steps with a young couple, Arthur is invisible. Ivan blindfolds the man and places the woman across the circle from her husband, feeding them all kinds of bullshit about spiritual energies and demonic alignments.

Finally, the sorcerer starts muttering in Russian, and when Arthur determines that it’s a suitably dramatic moment, he snuffs the candles and flashes to the center of the circle, wrapping himself in a cloak of shadow.

Ivan, standing behind the young woman, reignites the candles with his magic, putting the flames to weak, flickering levels. Arthur adds an eerie green glow to the lights and then whispers, “Who calls?”

The woman looks up nervously. “I call. I am here for my husband. He has been ensnared by a demon.”

 

An hour later, Arthur’s got both the husband’s and the wife’s signatures below his on a fresh contract, and there’s going to be one newly angry demon downstairs. If only Ivan hadn’t been destined for existence as a conduit, Arthur would get him employed with Hell, in a snap. The job security’s great, and the post-life benefits for a wily and wicked human can be pretty good, if you’re going to be living in Hell.

Francis shows up before they’re finished cleaning up. “I cannot believe you did that!” he says crossly, shaking a finger.

Ivan pauses in removing the red paint from the walls. He looks Francis up and down, and then he smiles. “Arthur didn’t tell me that demons could be so attractive,” he says, voice teasing and low.

Francis looks back at him, too. “You’re not too bad yourself,” he says, leering suddenly.

“Cut it out, you two,” Arthur groans. Then he smirks. “You’ve just got to stay on your toes,” he says to Francis.

“You _poached_ that one from me,” Francis pouts.

“Move faster next time,” Arthur says smugly.

Francis looks back to Ivan, lifting an eyebrow. “So this is the help you’ve spoken of,” he says, licking his lips. “Is he any good?” 

Arthur turns red. “He’s an assignment.”

“You don’t hang out with all of your assignments,” Francis says, sidling up close to Ivan. 

Arthur worries abruptly. What if _Ivan_ gets poached from him? Maybe he’s gotten complacent. He really should be pushing that contract more.

Francis is gazing hungrily at Ivan. “So, _assignment_ , are you any good?”

Ivan’s eyes dance. “Not at all,” he breathes. “I’m really terribly bad.”

~

“Why do you need to make an agreement with me, anyway?” Ivan asks as he watches Arthur write. “I mean, surely I’m already going to Hell when I die. Can’t you just do whatever you like with me then?”

“Contracts are safe,” Arthur explains. “I mean, there’s always room for loopholes, of course, but contracts are still binding, and that means that Heaven can’t snatch you out from under our noses at the last moment. Also, in this case, we need to make sure we have a willing conduit.” He presses the quill to the wound in Ivan’s palm and asks, “What else?”

Ivan seems to already have everything laid out in his head. “The requests for power or knowledge that I mentioned earlier, though appeals to Hell, will be answered only when I request them of you, or an other representative of Hell if I should need to designate one in the future.”

Arthur smiles. “So no to granting every frivolous wish that might pop into your head?”

The human nods.

“What else?”

“Also regarding the requests, they will only be interpreted in the way that I intend.”

That’s a neat way to close a lot of loopholes. Arthur doesn’t begrudge him the precaution, but Hell’s going to be doing everything it can to keep this soul happy. A happy, willing conduit is a good amplifier. “Anything else?” he asks, shaking his hand out, which is starting to cramp.

“Can I read it over?” Ivan asks, holding out his unmarred palm. Arthur rotates the contract toward the human, who pulls it across the table, closer to him.

Arthur watches him read. A few minutes in, he takes a deep breath, leans forward, and says, “Listen, are you really sure about the nine years of power thing? You can ask for more than that. Even Faust got twenty-four, and he wasn’t even a proper sorcerer. You’re worth more than you seem to think.”

Ivan looks up, surprised. “I think you’re negotiating against yourself, Arthur,” he says, sounding slightly confused.

“Look, I like you, okay?” Arthur says, rubbing his forehead. “You’ve been really great to deal with. You’re probably my favorite human right now. I just don’t want to cheat you.”

“You’re not cheating me,” Ivan says, meeting Arthur’s eyes. “I’m ambitious. I plan to do things with my time that you’ve never imagined. And I don’t mind having a looming deadline. It’ll keep me aware.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Nine years is such a short time,” he whispers.

Ivan smiles. “Nine years will be more than enough,” he says, softly. It sounds like there’s something that he’s leaving off the end of the sentence. What that something is, Arthur doesn’t know, but he thinks that Ivan is making him a promise.

~

“I’ve got another one,” Ivan says.

Arthur listens. He’s become melancholy lately, probably because he’s been trailing after Ivan, waiting for him to do things he’s never imagined, and constantly being disappointed. It’s been six months since they signed the contract already but mostly, the human has just been asking for information about Hell, about demons and hellfire and Lucifer, things Arthur had never been willing to discuss with him before.

But this request is different, and Ivan seems to be in one of his rare solemn moods. “Whatever Hell does to me, I want to remain myself,” he says.

Arthur looks at him. “It won’t damage your soul, being a conduit,” he offers.

“I meant what I just said, Arthur.”

Arthur nods. “Hell heard you.” The warm buzz that goes through him every time Ivan makes one of his requests is unmistakable.

“Good,” Ivan says, smiling faintly now. He exhales, and Arthur has a terrible feeling suddenly. “Make me the Devil, Arthur,” the human says.

He opens his mouth to say that if this is a joke, it’s not a good one, and then he changes his mind and is about to say that what Ivan asks is ridiculous, but then Hell rushes through him again. This time, the amount of power is more than can pass through Arthur’s body, so Hell rips a hole in the space around his skin and ignites the very air.

The room is burning, and Arthur can’t see Ivan. He panics, and as soon as he is able to move he extinguishes the hellfire and looks around wildly.

There is a human form on the ground, already, impossibly, crumbling to ash before Arthur’s eyes, and he sinks to his knees in shock and despair. He doesn’t cry, but what remains of the floor catches fire again as he sits numbly.

When he regains his senses, he thinks that at least Ivan had been thoughtful enough to include a clause allowing for Hell to take his soul during the time before the end of nine years, should he die.

Hell will get its conduit early, it seems.

Arthur gets to his feet. He needs some air, and he doesn’t want to go back to Hell just now. He’s almost out of Ivan’s sitting room when a quiet voice purrs, in his head, _"Where are_ you _going?"_ A hand grasps him by the elbow. It feels human. He spins around, his heart in his mouth, thinking, _Impossible_.

There is nobody behind him, but there are definitely fingers attached to the crook of his arm. Then there is a hand and a wrist, and then an arm and, as the body reconstructs itself, Arthur notices that there is no longer a pile of ash on the floor in front of where he had knelt seconds ago.

Then the body is whole and laughing and Ivan. There is hellfire and raw infernal power behind his violet eyes now, and Arthur realizes that Ivan had been right about doing things that he’s never imagined.

Far below their feet, Hell is pulling itself together for the first time in centuries, eagerly preparing itself for the arrival of the Devil, and meanwhile, on Earth, Arthur is the first demon to kneel to a human King of Hell.


End file.
